Month

November 2017

It’s Spring 1976. I’m four and I’m the youngest of three bridesmaids at my cousin’s wedding. We carry wicker baskets of white and yellow freesias and wear crowns of freesias in our hair. Their fresh and sweet smell is almost sickly. It’s the smell of boiled strawberry sweets.

We wear long, bottle green dresses with long sleeves and a frill around the hem. We have dyed green ballet shoes on our feet. We wear pretty cream aprons covered in tiny cream and yellow flowers. My mother made the dresses herself. My dress still remains in my 7 year old’s dressing up box – it’s a favourite of hers.

The smell of freesias still makes the hairs on my neck stand on end and takes me back to that warm Spring day, the excitement of dressing up, being a bridesmaid for the first time and the happiness of a country wedding.